What it feels

fuzzy food in fridge
flushed today
smell lingers
can it be washed away?

desperate house plants
bought with good intentions
gave up ghosts through kitchen window
carcasses remain

breakfasts of cold toast and peanut butter

outside, a sanctuary of thistles

inside, the dark imbues the body bones
absorbed in daily doses
just enough to quell
thoughts that foment rebellion

these I gave to you, I think.
my remembered lover
my old optimist
my partner of journey
my willing prisoner

spurn me now
for I have killed you
the worst of all crimes
a spirit stilled

melancholic

Hello, I am Lee Dunn. Working stiff (retired).  Avid reader, dreamer, and searcher. I write some eclectic poetry, prose, personal stories, and fiction. Have had work published in the Shelburne Free Press And Spillwords Press. I blog on WordPress at https://secret-lifeof.com/

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram (if you have one) to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Poem #189

How many lives have you
started tomorrow?
How many lies have you told
yourself to postpone the final
stepping into everything you want to be?
Don’t live in pain and in the fear
of the unknown. Step into everything you
are meant to be.

When you make a mistake you will hurt
but this life you’re living is hurting you too.

Poem #188

You begged for the rain to last a month.
Just so we could hide under our umbrella
of mutual lies, fairytale moments and beliefs
of us ever standing a chance.

Once the umbrella is closed we will be
standing in the sun but we won’t
be facing each other. The raindrops hitting
my window will always bring a memory
of your touch.

Poem #187

A long time ago I lived on the run
from life, truth, reality and everything that hurt.
In a certain point my head banged against
a wall and the path I ran on suddenly disappeared.

The walls are closing up on me, everything I have they’re
crushing. It’s kind of hard to breathe in this fog of memories.

I was never the one to stand still and let the world
cave in around me so I did the worst possible thing.
I’ve killed. I’ve killed my touch with reality, my bond
with family, I’ve killed every single piece of me that was
too big of a danger for my sanity.

I stitched up every wound, I’ve turned every source
of pain into lyrics and quotes but the same words with
which I let go are coming from other people’s mouths and
minds and I can’t stop them from flowing my way.

The words always stay and they get engraved into my brain.
I’ll put up my mask and pretend they’re not there until I break
down again. Then I’ll just keep on being a murderer and I
won’t stop until I do the biggest crime. I’m not stopping until
I kill every last piece of humanity in me.

Numbness is my goal and it justifies all means. I’ll be a killer
until I manage to stand against anything

A Reverse Poem 3.0

Nothing is worth feeling anymore
Don’t ever think that
You deserve the things you loved
Because you know
Only the fog is left to fill you
And you no longer believe
Magic and Miracles
Because your soul contains
Emptiness,
You do not live on
Ambition and hopefulness
Because you have found
Only disappointed
You are not destined to
Find your joy
PS – Now read from bottom to top

Blog: https://amankumar001.wordpress.com/

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram (if you have one) to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

A summer day

My fingers’ grip on the pen loosens,
as i write,
fighting against the heat on a hot summer day.
Drops of sweat, trickling down my forehead, tempting me to put the pen down and wipe them off.
A sudden, short lived gush of wind brushes past my sweaty face,
as if teasing me,
forcing me to reminisce about chilly winter mornings.
Heat radiating off my body, getting trapped within my clothes.
I feel the roof of my mouth drying up but the words on the page are all I care about.
It’s a raging battle between the forces of nature and the force of the words being formed in front of me.
I continue fighting, as the intensity of the heat slowly starts decreasing,
the sun starts moving down,
it’s light less blinding, as if retreating from the fight and soon enough, my old friend, the moon shows
up.
The scorching heat, long gone.
I look up, smiling triumphantly,
as the cool wind blows over the pages of my book,
as if greeting me.
And thus another day has passed by,
when my own alternate universe,
made up of something much deeper than words, has taken over.
Hey, I am Aarya Kale. I write about small, insignificant things that we all go through in everyday life and
put them in the mind of the reader from a different perspective.
Link to my blog:
Instagram username:
@_aaryakale

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram (if you have one) to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com